How the West Wasn't
by crematosis
Summary: Steve ends up in another universe where Tony is a rancher. It's not as hard to adjust as he might have thought, because even in this world some things are still the same.


A/N: So, I decided to try out writing an accent for god knows what reason. And it's haaaard and probably inconsistent but hey, it's kinda fun.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my strangle little AU versions of Marvel peeps.

Steve woke up with his cheek pressed against burning sand.

With an effort, he rolled onto his stomach, and then forced himself onto hands and knees, ignoring the searing pain in his palms until he could push himself to his feet.

There was nothing but desert as far as the eye could see. Hard, packed dry ground, billowing sands, the occasional cactus. It was a pretty bleak and desolate landscape.

The last thing Steve remembered was having a sandwich at the little cafe on Main right before some sort of meteor slammed into his table. And now he was here. Wherever here was.

The only thing he knew was that he couldn't stay where he was. Even with the serum, heatstroke and dehydration would kill him eventually and he had no idea how long he'd been lying in the middle of the sand. Quite a while, judging from how weak he felt.

He didn't have high hopes, but he picked a direction and started staggering towards the horizon.

The air was shimmering with heat, distant stretches of dirt looking almost wet. But that was all an illusion, he knew. As soon as he got closer, it was all just as dry as the rest of the land.

He was pretty sure the little dirt road he stumbled upon was a hallucination too, but he decided to follow it anyway, willing himself to keep putting one foot in front of the other as rusty chain-link fences appeared along the roadside and eventually a building popped into view.

The building was little more than a shack. But the word "Supplies" was painted on the side in bold red letters and Steve was in pretty desperate need of those.

A little bell tinkled overhead as he shouldered open the door, but nobody paid any attention. The store owner, a short, dark-haired man in a red apron, was arguing with a much taller, but shabbier looking man in a cowboy hat while a burly ranch hand leaned against the counter and looked on disinterestedly.

"All I'm sayin' is their kind is shiftless and lazy. Who knows if it was done right? Mebbe I should get some sorta free-"

"Like hell you will. He's my best mechanic. Pro'ly fixed 'er up better'n you deserve. So I ain't givin' you shit."

"I ain't movin' from this spot until I get my compensation."

The shopkeeper jabbed a finger at the ranch hand. "You! Git rid of this ol' curr. He's done darkenin' our doorstep."

"Aw, boss, I got a name."

"Don't care. Jes' git 'im outta here."

Steve ducked out of the way as the ranch hand hauled the protesting man to the door and tossed him out into the dirt.

"Racist sumbitch," the storekeeper muttered under his breath. He dusted off his hands and then turned to Steve, flashing him a wide smile. "And what kin I do fer you, pardner? Somethin' needs fixin?"

He was a lot tanner of course, and the flannel shirt wasn't like him at all. But there was something so familiar in his smile, in the way those warm brown eyes crinkled up with amusement, in that perfectly shaped goatee.

He looked so, so very much like Tony.

"You," Steve gasped out. "It can't be. You-you're-"

"Ant'ny Stark," the man said proudly. "Biggest cattle rancher, grain farmer, and supply depot in these parts."

"Oh god, it is you," Steve said faintly.

And that was his last conscious thought before passing out.

Steve woke with a gasp. "My god, Tony, I just had the weirdest dream. We were in the middle of the desert and you were a cowboy of all things and-"

"Easy, pardner. You gave us all quite a scare earlier, droppin' down on our doorstep like that."

Steve jerked upright. This definitely wasn't his bedroom. He didn't have a patchwork quilt or a Mason jar full of flowers on a bedside table. "Wow, this is really happening," he said slowly.

The strange version of Tony sat down at the foot of the bed. "Don't you go faintin' on me again," he said with a teasing smile.

"I didn't faint," Steve said. "That was heatstroke."

"Sure," he said, his eyes twinkling. "It ain't everyday you see a city boy starstruck by one of us country folk, but Ma always did say I had some damn fine good looks."

Apparently humility was always Tony's best feature, even in this world.

Steve cleared his throat. "Thanks for the hospitality, Mr. Stark, but I've really got to be going."

"Call me Ant'ny. Mr. Stark is only for the tax folk."

Steve smiled weakly. "Yes, thank you, Anthony. But I'm sure I've already overstayed my welcome. I'll pay whatever I owe for you fixing me up and then I'll be on my way."

"Now, you just set right where you are a moment. Pepper made you some grub and she won't let you leave 'til you're full up."

"I'm sure Miss Potts is a great cook, but I don't want to inconvenience her in any way."

"No trouble. Just some good home cookin'." Anthony flashed him a smile. "Hope you like chili."

Steve had never been very good at talking Tony out of anything once he had his mind made up.

"Okay," he said with a heavy sigh. "One bowl of chili and then I've got to be on my way."

Anthony beamed. "Follow me, then, city boy."

Reluctantly, Steve followed Anthony out to the back porch where a small table had been laid with a checkered cloth and three place settings.

Steve gingerly settled into one of the rickety-looking wooden chairs. Surprisingly, it didn't even creak under his weight.

"Lot stronger than they look," Anthony said proudly. "I made 'em."

Ah. That explained it.

"Built most of this place myself," Anthony said with a wide sweep of his arms. "Well, me and a few of the men. But I planned it all out."

Steve's eyes traveled across the yard, taking in all of the structures. There was the broad, sturdy barn right across from the house, some kind of storage shed, a paddock for the horses, a row of cabins where the hired help probably lived, and off in the distance down a little dirt path, the supply depot that had drawn Steve in.

So this was Anthony's empire.

"It's a nice place you've got here," Steve said.

And then Pepper appeared in the doorway in a pair of cut-off jeans and a sleeveless shirt, balancing a tray of chili and cornbread and a large pitcher of tea. She was a little tanner with a heavy dusting of freckles all across her face and arms, but there was no doubt who she was.

Pepper smiled warmly at him as she set the tray down on the table. "Good to see you up and about. Anthony was carryin' on like you was at death's door."

"Just a little dehydration and heatstroke," he assured her. "Nothing to worry about."

"Then you have to have plenty of our sweet tea then, Mr. uh-"

"Steve," he said. "Steve Rogers."

She looked thoughtful. "Any relation to a Grant Rogers?"

"Doubt it," he said. "I'm not from around here." Although for all he knew of this world, maybe he was.

Pepper gave him an appraising glance. "No, you sure don't look like a farmhand," she said.

"He's a city boy," Anthony said. "Got his self lost out here, outta water and food and whatnot. Lucky he stumbled on us when he did."

"Something like that," Steve agreed.

"I'll take you back out to your car, fix 'er up, and let you be on your way," Anthony said cheerfully.

"I don't have a car," Steve said. "I walked here."

"Not from Aldridge's place, I hope. I don't like most of the city men he brings in on tour."

"No, I'm not actually staying anywhere in town. I kind of just walked until I found my way here."

"Whole way across the desert?" she said incredulously. "Lord, you was asking for heatstroke."

"I didn't exactly," Steve said. "I just kind of ended up here, wherever here is."

"Middle of California," Pepper said.

Steve almost choked on his mouthful of tea. "California?"

Tony had flown him out once to see the work he had put into repairing the mansion in Malibu. As far as Steve could tell, California consisted of malls and beaches. But maybe he was wrong.

"We anywhere near Malibu?" he asked cautiously.

Pepper gave him a dubious look. "That where you're from?"

"I'm, ah, actually from Brooklyn."

The look of disbelief deepened.

"I know it sounds crazy," Steve said. "But one minute I was eating lunch in New York and now I'm clear across the country in a whole other version of my world." He pointed to Tony. "Where I'm from, you helped create the biggest tech company in the world and you made Pepper your CEO."

"Lordy," Pepper said. "You must have been out in the sun longer than we thought."

"I'm not crazy," Steve said. "I really am from another world. You have to believe me."

"I believe you," Anthony said. "I bet them aliens brought you over."

Pepper threw down her napkin. "Don't you start with that alien bullshit again."

Anthony leaned across the table. "They visited me 'bout four years ago," he said in a conspiratorial whisper. "How I got me this." He lifted his shirt to show off what looked like a very crude version of the arc reactor.

"I heard enough of this nonsense," Pepper declared. She pushed back from the table and stormed inside.

"They were crawlin' all over everything," Anthony continued. "Big, scaly things like nothin' on this earth."

"Lizards," Pepper shouted from the other side of the screen door. "They were just lizards. One of Aldridge's damn experiments gotten loose."

Anthony rolled his eyes and dropped his voice down even further. "Ain't seen a lizard big enough to eat a horse. But that's just what happened. And then it came after me. I thought I was a goner. But then this fella in a fancy suit showed up and blasted through 'im with this big gun of his. I was tore up pretty bad, but he got me this gizmo to patch up the hole in my chest. And he said something big was going to happen so it was imperative I stay alive in all the various worlds."

"Jesus," Steve said.

So that's what Coulson had been up to.

"Sounds crazy, I know," Anthony allowed. "But no crazier than your'n. I figger after my experience, I can't dismiss anything anymore." He leaned back in his chair and gave Steve a long look. "How do you figure on getting back to your world?"

Steve blinked. He hadn't really thought about it. All he had been concerned with was getting back on the move. He hadn't really considered where he was going.

"By heading to your version of Brooklyn, I suppose," Steve said. "Maybe if I visit the same little cafe on this end, I can switch back to my world."

"Possible," Anthony agreed. "Or maybe you need to head back to the spot you dropped in here. Maybe that's the only place in this world that lets you through."

Huh. He hadn't thought about that. But it made just as much sense as his theory.

Anthony pushed his plate back. "It's gonna be dark out soon. Too dark to go harin' 'round through the sand. You can spend the night here and then tomorrow morning I'll take you out lookin' around. If that don't work, on to your plan."

"I don't want to trouble you any further," Steve said. "You've got a ranch to run and you don't need to be taking in crazy charity cases."

"I can take on any crazy charity case I want," Anthony said. "But if it makes you feel any better, you can pitch in with the hired hands."

"Absolutely," Steve said. He liked the idea of earning his keep.

"I'll take you round on the grand tour and then you can pitch in with whatever needs doing. There's always somethin' needs doing 'round here."

"I'm sure there is," Steve said.

Everything looked clean and orderly so there had to be a lot of work going on to keep everything running that smooth.

Pepper stuck her head out a window. "Grant, the damn mule's got loose out front again," she called.

Anthony swore and got to his feet. "He shouldn't have to keep after the damn thing. I bought it. It ain't his responsibility, even if it was his idea."

"Is it really that big of a deal?" Steve asked.

"Yes," Anthony said. "He's going to wear himself out one of these days but that boy don't know when to quit."

The barn door swung open and Steve stared at the scrawny young man that marched out, practically drowning in his oversized shirt, a length of rope slung over his shoulders that had to weigh just as much as he did.

Grant Rogers. Right. He should have known.

Grant flashed him a look as he passed by, all steely blue determination, just daring him to say a word against him.

It was weird looking himself in the face.

"Grant," Anthony said. "You don't gotta chase after that mule. You've got plenty to do already. Let Steve here-"

"Siddown, Stark," Grant said sternly. "I got this."

Anthony sat.

Steve raised an eyebrow. If only all arguments with Tony could be settled that easily.

"Shuddup," Anthony muttered.

Steve grinned. "I didn't say a word."

"Well, you're due for the tour now," Anthony said, his eyes still on Grant. "Let me take you 'round to see the new irrigation system."

Steve followed Tony around to the side of the house and listened politely as Anthony explained about the sprinkler system he had rigged up. And then they went around front so Anthony could show off Pepper's flower garden.

Grant was still out there, fighting with the mule as it clearly would rather stay in the garden and eat all of Pepper's flowers. But he seemed to be just as stubborn as the mule, his heels dug in and pulling on the rope as hard as he could.

Anthony sighed. "I knew the damn mule was too much for him." He squared his shoulders and started forward.

Steve put an arm out to hold him back. "Let him do it. I know it's a struggle for him, but he'll be able to hold on to a little of his pride if he can do it on his own. Don't step in unless he's really in trouble."

"Really?" Anthony asked dubiously.

"Yes," Steve said. "He'll resent it if you do everything for him. Now, come on. You have other things to show me."

With a great show of reluctance, Anthony let Steve steer him back to the yard. But once Steve questioned him about how long it had taken him to build the corral, Anthony warmed to the subject and eagerly started discussing the benefits of various types of wood as the sun set in the distance.

Soon enough, Grant came around the side, tugging the mule along behind him all the way to the barn.

"Well, I'll be," Anthony said admiringly.

Steve rested his arms across the fence. "When are you going to tell Grant you're in love with him?"

Anthony jerked back. "You don't know what you're talkin' 'bout," he said sharply.

Steve winced. "I'm sorry. You and Miss Potts must be-"

Anthony shook his head. "Pepper'n I don't work out that way. She's a good woman. Wouldn't be able to run the ranch without her. But we're best sticking as business partners."

"Ah," Steve said. Some things just didn't change.

Anthony cleared his throat. "What about you?"

Steve smiled and tilted his head back to look up at the stars. Maybe his world was out there somewhere. And his Tony.

"I've got a man back home," he said finally. "He loves building things, repairing things. Loves to work with his hands. And he's good at it because he's a genius. But even with that great big brain of his, he still doesn't understand why I love him."

"And while you're stuck here with us, he thinks you left him."

Steve swallowed. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of." He had no idea how long it would take to find a way back to his world and he knew how quickly Tony tended to jump to conclusions.

Anthony thumped his shoulder. "Then I'll do whatever I can to get you back to your feller. Take it from an old bachelor like me. Single life is a sad, lonely way to live."

"You don't have to live it either," Steve said earnestly. "Grant-"

"Is one of my workers," Anthony said. "And far too young to get saddled with a miserable old man like me. He needs to go out and find a nice girl his age, settle down and start a family."

"I don't think women are exactly lining up to go out with him."

"Well, they should," Anthony said angrily. "He's one of the hardest workers I got."

"Uh-huh," Steve said. "The scrawny little kid that can't handle a mule."

"Don't mean nothing," Anthony insisted. "He can't do all the heavy lifting, sure, but he's always willing to help out and take on more'n his share of the work. More than he can really do sometimes. I'd think a good man could respect that."

"I'm afraid you're the only one," Steve said. He pointed across the pasture.

Across the paddock, some of the other ranch hands were shoving Grant back and forth and trying to pry something out of his hands. They were talking too low for Steve to hear what they were saying, but Grant looked like he was telling them off as best he could.

Anthony sighed and called out,"You beat him and you'll have to do his work, too."

"I don't need your help," Grant shouted back, even as the men dispersed.

Steve watched as the light went out in one of the cabins an another ranch hand rushed out, barefoot with his shirt unbuttoned. He was missing an arm, but he cupped his hand under Grant's chin, probably looking him over for injuries. Then he cuffed him upside the head.

Good old Bucky.

Steve's heart constricted painfully. He didn't miss being small, but he did miss having Bucky at his side. There were days when he would have gladly given up his super-strength if it meant Bucky was still his old self.

"That there is his best friend, James," Anthony said. "So don't tell me he doesn't have anybody."

"Trust me," Steve said. "They're more like brothers than anything else."

"You don't know anything," Anthony said dismissively. "Ain't your world."

Steve grabbed Anthony by the shoulders and shook him. "No, this isn't my world," he hissed. "But I'm not going to sit here and watch you make yourself miserable and lovesick. You need to do more than survive in every world. You need to live. And you're not really living if you keep denying yourself what you really want. Sure, there's a risk he'll turn you down. But I'm willing to bet he won't."

Anthony swallowed. "How can you be so sure?"

Steve cupped his hands around Anthony's face. "Because my name is Steven Grant Rogers."

Anthony's mouth dropped open. "You," he said. "You...Steven Grant?"

"Yes," Steve said. He gave Anthony a gentle shove. "Go on over there and tell him how you feel."

Anthony squared his shoulders. "Okay," he said. "I'll do it."

Steve watched as Anthony walked forward, grim-faced and determined, as if he was going to face the firing squad but had just enough courage to meet his death head-on. A glance across the yard showed Grant storming towards him, expression murderous.

"Stark," Grant bellowed.

Anthony froze. "Grant, I was, uh-"

Grant lunged for him, smashing their faces together and then the two of them tumbled down into the dirt, still furiously making out.

James whooped and tossed his hat in the air. "Go get 'im, Grant."

Steve casually walked the length of the fence until he came up to where James was sitting. "You don't seem surprised those two are together," he said.

James snorted. "Hell naw. Pretty much the entire ranch, 'sides those two idiots, was aware they was in love. Grant volunteers for just about every project Mr. Stark has, whether he can do it or not. And Stark's always hovering about, worried Grant will strain himself. Yeah, we all knew." He gave Steve a sidelong look."I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I just feel like-"

"We've known each other for years," Steve finished. "Yeah."

James squinted at him. "You remind me of Grant, a little," he said. "Pro'ly why he got all worked up enough to finally do somethin'."

Steve smiled. "Sorry, no relation."

There was an eerie whistle in the dark and James looked up apprehensively. "Damn," he said, clutching his empty sleeve. "Can't get the war out of my head."

"I understand," Steve said. "War is hard to forget."

"You too?"

Steve nodded.

James pushed off from the fence and looked around restlessly in the dark. "The hell is that noise?" he muttered. "I know it ain't a bomb, but it don't sound good."

A flash of lightning illuminated a funnel cloud unfurling from the sky.

"Oh hell," James said quietly. "It's a tornado."

Anthony pulled his mouth off of Grant's. "California doesn't get tornadoes," he insisted.

"Then what in the hell is that?" James pointed vigorously as the sky lit up with another flash of lightning.

"Shit," Anthony said. He scrambled to his feet. "Everybody inside. Right now."

"Won't do any good."

"Well, it's better than just standing around waiting to die," Anthony snapped. "So get going."

Grant got up and began shouting at the anxiously milling farmhands. "Seek shelter, morons."

Steve slid off the fence. "It's coming for me," he said slowly.

"Don't be a fool," James said. "Tornadoes don't come for anybody."

Steve's eyes tracked the tornado's movements, carefully skirting around the supply depot without pulling up anything more than a few bushes. And then it headed straight down the little dirt road.

"I'm going to lead it away from the ranch," he said. "But you should head inside just in case."

"Like hell I'm going to-"

"Bucky," Steve said. "That's an order."

James' mouth opened and closed a few times and then he nodded. "Come on, Stark. In the house."

Steve jogged away from the ranch, back towards the open desert. To his relief, the tornado seemed to be following him. When the ranch was just a small flicker of light in the distance, he stopped and made his stand.

His stomach clenched as the howling column of wind got closer.

God, he hoped he was right.

Steve woke to the sound of cars honking.

New York traffic had never sounded so good, he thought with relief. He felt like he had just been pushed off a skyscraper and landed hard on the concrete, but at least he was back home.

He cracked open an eye. He was lying on the sidewalk right across from the remains of the cafe. It looked like the whole street was shut down while the Avengers picked through the rubble.

It was so good to see his team again. And Tony. His Tony.

"Tony," Steve called.

Tony's back went rigid. "Guys, I thought I heard-"

"Tony," Steve said a little louder.

Tony whirled around, surprise and delight written across his face. He rushed across the street and threw himself to his knees at Steve's side. "My god," he said. "You're here. You're alive. We heard your favorite cafe got hit so we all came out to look for you and it's been six hours and I was so worried you were dead-"

Steve kissed him. "I'm not dead," he said.

"Right. Here you are after all that searching and I have no idea how you made it out of there alive and how you managed to get-"

"Doesn't matter," Steve said. He stroked the back of Tony's neck and pulled him down into another kiss.

Tony laughed. "Steve. Steve, let me finish."

"No," Steve said. "Missed you too much."

Tony's expression softened and he allowed Steve to pull him down into his arms. "Missed you, too," he murmured as he snuggled against Steve's chest. "But we should get you to medical or Coulson will-"

Steve sat up straight. "Coulson?"

Tony eyed him. "You think he knows something about this?"

Steve laid back against the pavement and shut his eyes. "No, probably not."

But the man definitely had some explaining to do.


End file.
